Hannibal's Brides in Therapy
by HannibabestheCannibabes
Summary: Will Graham and Bedelia Du Maurier face off in therapy.


**Hannibal's Brides in Therapy**

'I think you should attend therapy with Dr Du Maurier.'

Will almost spat out the coffee he was drinking. Instead, he shook his head and grimaced. 'I'm not having therapy with her.'

'Will.' Alana Bloom put down her own cup and looked at him earnestly from across the table. She'd invited him to her house solely for this conversation, having heard only the day before that Bedelia Du Maurier considered herself recovered enough to see patients once more, yet she could now see the opportunity crumbling. 'It might do you good. You're both victims of Hannibal. Surely it would do you both good to talk?'

'I'm a victim. She's an accomplice.'

'For God's sake, Will.'

'You don't actually believe her, do you?' Will leaned forward to ask. 'That Hannibal drugged her, kidnapped her, and convinced her she was an entirely different person for the whole time they were in Italy without her ever having any doubts? All the while, Dr Du Maurier still being able to function in high Florentine society? It's ridiculous.'

'You and I both know that psychology doesn't work like that, Will. It's perfectly reasonable to suggest that Dr Du Maurier experienced a loss of identity as a result of being drugged, yet was still able to function under a different identity.'

'She's manipulating the entirety of the FBI. You're blinded by her.'

'Male violence against women is often ignored due to lack of belief. I'm not ignoring Dr Du Maurier's experiences because you tell me to.'

'So you believe her because she's a woman?' Will raised an eyebrow, desperately attempting to contain his anger. 'You're willing to let a criminal claim victimhood simply because she's a woman?'

'No, I'm willing because she is a victim.' Alana sighed. 'I'm not asking to debate Du Maurier's innocence with you. I'm asking you just to go and see her. Go for one session. Just to reassure me that you're still here, with us, and you can move on from Hannibal. That you both can move on from Hannibal.'

* * *

'Special Agent Will Graham.' Bedelia Du Maurier stood up as the agent entered the room, looking distinctly uncomfortable and seemingly angry at his presence in the doctor's house. She smirked and gestured to the chair in front of her before walking over to the cabinet. 'Wine, Mr Graham?'

'Do you drink with all your patients?'

'No, but you look as if you need one.' After a moment of hesitation, she took a bottle of red wine from the shelf and two glasses. A bottle, she believed, Hannibal brought her once. The irony caused her to smile once more. She sat back down and poured two glasses of the wine, handing one to her patient. He did not thank her. 'I'd have thought, given your last psychiatrist, your manners would be of a much higher calibre.'

'I would like this appointment to be as short and straightforward as possible, Bedelia. I'm here on request of the FBI, I'm not here for any failed attempts to either read or rile me.' He spoke calmly, but he gave away his refusal to look the doctor in the face.

'Not on request of the FBI, more on the request of one member. Would you like to tell me what your relationship is like with Dr Bloom?'

'I know you have no interest in my relationship with Alana.' He matched her icy tone, and this time met her stare. 'You're interested in whether I believe you about Hannibal. I don't.'

'You're wrong, Mr Graham, I have no interest in whether or not you believe me about Hannibal, although I can assure you that all of it is true. I was drugged whilst in Florence, and I was forced to live the identity of another. It has been a slow recovery, that of my own name, one of which I'm sure you have experience.' She raised an eyebrow whilst taking a sip of her wine. 'But I do not care whether or not you believe me. You are small within the FBI. I believe Hannibal once said you referred to yourself as an 'old mug' in the eyes of Jack Crawford, and that is all the weight you carry. You are no longer a lecturer, not really an agent; your credibility has been lost. You cannot harm me, Will.'

'You think you have credibility? The FBI knows you're lying, Bedelia. The further they let you climb, the further you'll fall when they prove your guilt.'

'When they prove, or when you prove? I am under no illusion that you have not already presented the case against me to the most senior FBI agents you can speak to.' She paused before leaning back into her chair. 'Tell me, Mr Graham, how have you found being referred to as Hannibal Lecter's 'murder husband' in affecting your standing with fellow FBI agents?'

She watched as he visibly froze at the comment. In a way, it was a shame he wasn't a real patient, the therapy costs for just his sessions would be worth his clear hostility. Bedelia went to fill the silence he had left, when he managed to respond. 'I'd have thought you were above petty gossip from the likes of Freddie Lounds.'

'Rather the opposite. I find that it's the petty gossipers who hit the truth far more often. They say what others are afraid to.'

'Then you'll have read, I'm sure, her articles about you. You were the bride of Frankenstein.'

'I had no complaints with the title, merely with the reference. Hannibal was no Frankenstein, either man or monster.' She paused once more. 'Although, for a short time, he appeared to create a monster out of you.'

'Encephalitis made a monster out of me. What made the monster out of you, Bedelia?'

'That would be to suggest I am one, yet I maintain myself even after my encounters with Hannibal. You, Will, are changed.' At the irritated confusion on his face, she elaborated. 'You were stable with a promising career, you now find yourself still clinging onto those around you to the point in which you form desperate relationships with those far beyond your degree, and your career can be surmised in a single commendation and an arrest warrant. You may choose to blame encephalitis but it is you who are Hannibal's creation, Will, not me.'

'Hannibal did not create me.'

'But he did love you. And is love not, in part, a form of creation? Did you return his feelings, Will? Hannibal, I cannot imagine, would love so foolishly as to risk rejection. How did you love him? Was it love that burnt all that it touched and turned to ash upon its end? Or was it love laced with forgiveness, like a wine laced with poison? Does your forgiveness of him poison you, Will? Can you feel it, even now, twisting your stomach? The thought that even after all he's done, you could love him once more. Does that burn you, Will?' She'd watched his expression change as she spoke, his eyes becoming darker, his mouth hardening. The emotion intrigued her. 'Or is it a different type of love entirely? Would you offer punishment rather than forgiveness? Animalistic carnality in place of divine forgiveness?'

Will stood up suddenly, the anger this time clear on his face, the doctor's words racing through his head. 'You know what, Bedelia…' His mind froze. 'Go suck a dick.'

 _Great_.

'I did. Your murder husband's.' She took a sip of wine as Will stood, furious.

'I know you're guilty.'

'Bite me.'

 _And Will made sure that he did._

 **This is a ridiculous one-shot crack fic. I just love Bedelia too much. Please let me know if you enjoyed it or not.**


End file.
